Bella's Unnatural Urges
by The Black Doll
Summary: Bella is feeling frustrated because Edward doesn't want to get more . . . physical, so she decides to take steps. Rated hard M & takes the piss out of Twilight, so be warned. For the brave, there's a sequel: 'Bella la Belle'.


Bella's Unnatural Urges

Bella Swan was feeling frustrated, and she really shouldn't have been. After all, here she was, one of the most popular girls at Forks High School, who could have her choice of the various male things who followed her, drooling, through the corridors. Such a popular girl shouldn't have been frustrated; she should have been exhausted but satiated. And yet there was more: she wasn't just popular, she had a boyfriend. And not the sort of boyfriend one tries to prevent one's parents from finding out about, either, but a really amazing, dreamy, gorgeous, sophisticated, intelligent – well, you get the idea. He was hot stuff. And he loved her. He said he loved her more than life itself. Which was ironic given that technically speaking he wasn't alive, but let's just assume he was speaking figuratively, shall we? Regardless, Bella was so besotted with him that she wouldn't have ever doubted that his words might have not been so indicative of a love to ring down the ages as their surface meaning suggested, had she not been, frustrated.

But she was, terribly. And it was all her Edward's (the boyfriend's) fault. After all, Bella thought, it was terribly romantic going for long walks through the woodland surrounding Forks and having deep discussions about what it was like being a vegetarian vampire, the ethics of being a vegetarian vampire, and where best to bite a deer so as to drain the most blood from its quivering, not-yet-dead body. And it was very nice when Edward told her how nice she smelled, and how the smell was so much his thing, and so overpowering that he could barely stop himself from applying his deer-won knowledge to her. Which was a bit of a turn on, but not so much as the times when he let her kiss him. Which wasn't very often, because she got a bit over-excited and started trying to stick her tongue down his throat and things like that, that for some reason he didn't seem to approve of.

And this was the cause of the frustration; Bella sort of, kind of bought Edward's explanation that taking their relationship up to the next level was a big no no because his vampire passions, if enflamed, might be so strong that he killed her by accident, but she thought that was a risk worth taking, if it meant that she actually got a chance to go all the way with him. And so it was that increasingly often, while Edward droned on about ethics and the like, Bella found herself having to work hard just to restrain herself from ripping his clothes off, fellating him until his male member was at full extension and then wildly riding . . . and so on and so forth. Anyway, to put it in its most basic form, Bella wanted to fuck Edward and he didn't seem to reciprocate. So she was frustrated.

One day she finally plucked up her courage and decided to have it out with him. It was, unusually for Forks, a nice spring day, and she and Edward were out in the countryside, sufficiently far from Forks that it didn't matter if Edward did a spot of sparking every now and then. Visual, not conversational: even at her most besotted, Bella would have to admit that Edward was never going to equal the likes of Oscar Wilde or Truman Capote, in fact he had probably never heard of Oscar Wilde or Truman Capote, but that is all by and by. So Bella effectively hijacked a conversation about the need to keep a low profile and not sparkle in public by saying,

'Edward, we need to talk.' Edward looked affronted, and said,

'But I was talking. And as I was saying...'

'No,' said Bella, 'I don't mean you, I mean us. We need to talk about us, our relationship. And where it's going.' Edward shifted and said,

'Well, I don't think there's much to discuss. We both know our relationship is doomed, our love fit only to ring down the ages as a warning to arrogant humanity. We don't have a future. Well, I have a future, whereas you have ninety years tops, and then...' at which point he stopped because Bella had hit him with a stick, only to continue, 'Ow that hurt. You should be careful doing that you know.'

'Why?' said Bella, 'As you've just been telling me, I'm a mere insect, while you're a bloody immortal, god-like vampire. Maybe we don't have a future, but I don't want a future, I want us to have a present, to be lovers, to live and love together while we can.'

During this speech Bella had progressed from hitting Edward with a stick to sitting up close to him. Very close. In fact so close that Edward forgot his habitual self-absorption for long enough to remark on it and say,

'Bella?'

'Uh-hu?'

'Why are you so close to me?'

'Because I want to do this to you," with which she grasped his head with both hands and kissed him, ferociously. He tried to produce what would undoubtedly have been a very well considered and structured speech on the danger of allowing his vampire nature to be aroused by strong emotion, but as it emerged as,

'Mm mmm mmm mmmm mmmm mmmmmm' its impact, and the lessons it might have imparted, were sadly lost on Bella who, having got her tongue into Edward's mouth, was now using one hand to fumble with his trouser zipper. And she even managed to effect an entry, and who knows where things might have gone had Edward not decided that the time had come to act in self-defence, and so put forth his mighty vampire strength to thrust her from him. Well, not so much thrust as disentangle, and given she currently had one hand on his neck, one hand on a very private part of his anatomy and her tongue mixed up with his tonsils, this was easier said than done. But after a bit he managed to separate Bella, who was growling while making ineffectual moves to get at him, from himself and, having deposited her at a safe distance, he positioned himself several feet up a convenient tree, in which location she would be unlikely to renew her attack. At least, with any degree of success.

She seemed to realise it, for once she had calmed down and stopped growling, and then muttering words that Edward, with his preternaturally keen hearing, was shocked to learn she knew, she sat there, looking bereft and said,

'But Edward, why don't you want to fuck me?' so plaintively that if he had not known better he might have climbed down from his tree and gone across to be with her. But he did know better, so he stayed put and said,

'Bella, you know that we must never do anything that might risk my, well, drinking you. You are too precious to me for that.' Bella said, under her voice, but, as she knew, audibly to superman Edward,

'I'd be willing to risk being drunk for one good fuck. Oh what's the use.' Then louder, in her normal, though still doleful voice, 'But Edward, think of it from my point of view. I love you; I love you as no woman has loved man, sorry, vampire, before. And what do I get out of it? Do I get proper attention paid to my womanly urges? Do you acknowledge that the highest duty any man can pursue is to service the womanly urges of his beloved? No, to both. Now just shut up a bit,' she said seeing signs that he wished to interrupt, 'And let me finish. I may not be able to reach you up there, but I can still throw rocks at you, so watch it. Now where was I? What, did you say "Indulging in self-pity"? Why you – come here you bastard. Oh hell, why did I have to fall in love with a self-absorbed prude? And that was a rhetorical question.' Bella brooded for a few moments while Edward wondered to himself whether she really was likely to throw rocks at him, and wished he really could turn himself into a bat. 'Right,' said Bella, 'I have needs, the need for touching, for passionate embraces and caresses, and most important of all, for shagging. In that I am no more than a typical eighteen-year-old, but my need is greater than that of most, because all my peers have to do to get it is wear a v-necked top and their boyfriend is putty in their hands, while I could turn up to one of our trysts stark naked all you'd do is turn that into an excuse to lecture me on the perils of public sparkling. I want, no, desire, no need to be your lover, in every sense of that term, and you put me off with all this romanticism crap. Well I want more than romanticism, but you don't seem to want to give it to me. And I want to know why, Edward? Why won't you make me a woman?' with which her voice broke and she started to cry.

Edward, who throughout this speech had alternated between bemusement, incomprehension and hurt pride at the thought that somehow his beloved thought he wasn't as good as those, those humans who coupled like mice without thought or passion, decided that, as Bella was crying and not doing anything more menacing like threatening to pull down his pants, it was probably safe to come down from his tree, though he still kept his distance, just in case her apparently hypertrophied lust led her to do something that, well she probably wouldn't regret, but he would. He even, oh how mighty he was in his magnanimity, began to consider Bella's problem, and made an effort to answer her question.

'Oh Bella,' he began, 'You know that any hint of – passion –' he said it as if it polluted his mouth, 'Might lead to the dark side of vampiredom taking over, and conquering all of my ethics. And then where would we be if I were to take you and make you one of us?' Bella looked up, eyes aflame,

'I'd be with you forever, and we could fuck like love-monkeys even while the Universe underwent its heat death. Some people may not find that a turn-on, but it'll do for me. So,' and before his horrified eyes she stood up and started to unbutton her shirt, 'What are we waiting for?' She threw her shirt off to one side, while Edward, eyes bugging from his head, said,

'But Bella, think of what you'd lose, your soul for one thing and . . . don't you think you ought to keep your pants on? It's not that warm, you know. Oh, now how are we going to get them down from that tree? Anyway, Bella, if you become a soulless monster like me you won't enjoy it, you really won't. Living forever isn't as exciting as it sounds and . . . Bella? Bella? What are you doing with your bra, Be...wa wa wa wa wa,' incoherence having its onset at the point at which Bella had thrust his face into her cleavage and waggled it back and forth.

After a little while the now briefly clad Bella released Edward, who fell back, hyperventilating and in a clear state of shock. She too was hyperventilating, but through excitement. And she managed to get her breathing under control relatively quickly, quickly enough to beat Edward to be the first to speak, and say,

'So, did you enjoy it?' Edward spluttered and eventually managed to get out,

'It was, it was...'

'Wonderful, sexy, a glorious foretaste of the splendour yet to come. And I hope you liked my boobs. You did like my boobs, didn't you?' this in a rather menacing tone. Edward shook his head, leading to Bella emitting a shriek of anger and starting to look around for a suitable large rock beneath which to crush him. Vampires had risen from the grave, and the crypt, but she was willing to bet that they hadn't risen from the jam-jar. While she did this, Edward managed to articulate a few more words, and said,

'It was wrong.'

Bella was so stunned that she dropped her rock and just stood staring at him. After a few moments, she said,

'Wrong?'

'Yes, wrong. I haven't told anyone this before, but it's the truth, and if it's the only way I can get you to stop assaulting me...' Bella was filled with remorse. Her Edward had a reason after all, and here she was contemplating crushing him into a substance of a paste-like consistency. She didn't deserve him. Chastened, she went over to Edward and crouched down next to him, saying,

'So tell your Bella all about it. Now let's get comfortable. You sit down here, next to me, that's right, and put your hand there. No, not there, there. So what's the problem?'

'Well,' said Edward, nervous, as one who speaks a dread secret for the first time in years, which in fact was the case, 'When I was sixteen', back in the 1910's, a lady from the Abstinence Society persuaded me to sign a pledge that I would forgo from sexual activity until I was twenty-one.' He said this as if it explained everything, but Bella just stared blankly at him.

'So,' she said, 'You were twenty-one eighty-seven years ago, so let's fuck.' Edward realised that she didn't understand,

'Ah, he said, but I wasn't twenty-one, because I got turned when I was seventeen, and I'm still seventeen now. So I'll never be twenty-one. And as an ethical vampire I must keep my word, because my word is...'

'So are you saying,' said Bella, in a gradually rising voice, 'That you refuse to fuck me because you bloody well can't do arithmetic? Look, it's very simple, you are one-hundred-and-eight years old. Even somebody who pays as little attention as you do in math class ought to know that one-hundred-and-eight is bigger than twenty-one. So problem solved, you kept the pledge, and now we can fuck like crazed weasels, and if you feel like turning me in the process I wouldn't say no.' Edward shook his head again,

'But I've been seventeen ever since I turned. To a vampire the passage of time means nothing. So I'm still seventeen.'

Bella stared hard at him for several minutes, then something seemed to deflate within her.

'Fine,' she said, 'You're still seventeen. So I have to get you to ignore this ridiculous pledge.' She turned away from Edward and picked up her bra. 'Go,' she said, 'I need to be alone.' Edward bridled at this. He may have stood revealed as a bit of an idiot, and a man unable to service his woman's urges, but he still knew that leaving near-naked young women alone in the woods was a bad idea.

'I can't do that,' he said, 'What if somebody came across you? They might...'

'Have sex with me? The thing I've been trying to make happen all afternoon?' she said sourly, 'Well, that'd surely be a bummer wouldn't it. Oh, stay if you like, but don't talk to me. I need to think. And get my trousers down from that tree. But principally think.'

As she walked home with Edward, unconcerned for once by the uncomfortable silence between them, Bella brooded over how to persuade Edward that a pledge he had signed some eighty years ago had little meaning in today's world. Though she would have liked to believe that he was susceptible to reason, and would accept the logic of her argument that an agreement signed eighty years ago relating to events before one was twenty-one had little relevance to one's activities when one-hundred-and-eight, but she feared that her Edward's curious combination of extreme intelligence and brutish stupidity would render him unable to even understand her argument, let alone accept it. Thus she needed something that would appeal to more than mere reason, something that appealed to his senses, to his deepest desires. But given his rather disappointing response to her bosom, and it was, she thought, without undue self-aggrandisement, actually a bloody good bosom, as these things go, an appeal to his senses would have to be something really, really special. Like . . . well, like what? What was it about her that most appealed to Edward? And not her willingness to listen to him drone on about ethical vampirism. No, of course, he had said it himself: it was her scent.

He had told her repeatedly in the early, rapturous, days of their relationship that her scent, the smell of pure, unadulterated Bella, was so much of a turn on that it nearly made him forget himself. And what was it Bella wanted Edward to do, if it was not to forget himself? So she just needed to smell – more – even more like herself than ever before. She needed concentrated 'Eau de Bella', and she knew where to get it. Thus, arriving back in Forks, she made up a reason why she had to go downtown, heading off Edward's suggestion that he come with her by saying she was going clothes shopping, and then made an assignation for later that afternoon, an assignation,

'Where we can talk this over some more.' Edward gulped, but vampires were not meant to show fear, especially not fear of prey beings on whom they should look down as people do animals, so he said,

'Would you like me to bring a friend . . . okay, put the brick down, no friend, just me then. See you later,' and then tried to run for it before she could do anything else embarrassing. He didn't succeed, because before he could move Bella's arms were around him and she was kissing him passionately. He felt her go limp against him, and then she said,

'Unless you just want to come back to my bedroom right now . . .' Edward, fearing for his virtue unwound himself from Bella, who crumpled into a heap on the pavement, and said,

'Er no, remember what I said, er, goodbye,' and this time he did run for it, leaving Bella weeping quietly.

The good people of Forks were an uninquisitive breed, so the sight of an attractive young woman having a melt-down on the pavement passed them by as if it were an everyday event, which, so depressing was the town to the human spirit, it probably was, so Bella was not interrupted as she regained control of herself. Rising to her feet, she plucked up her courage to do what she had to do. Which was something pretty awful, because though Mr Frog wasn't actually the devil, or even a vampire (though there was a theory that he was one of the elder things), he had such a reputation for weirdness that young women were taught to avoid him. Which would be easy if he were not the best perfumer in Forks, in the whole North-West, in fact probably the world. But he was. He could make a scent to replicate any odour, could make a scent to turn any woman from a plain Jane to the centre of a testosterone-driven scrum, and only he could make 'Eau de Bella'.

An hour later she had it, 'Eau de Bella' a scent so powerful, so unique that it could only enflame the senses, specifically the senses of that one individual about whom she cared more than any other, that individual for whom this scent was specifically prepared, made as it was to reproduce and amplify the scent of his own true love: her – Bella. Now surely Edward would be hers, unable to resist her when she wore it. But it wouldn't hurt to help it along a bit. She should do her best to look like a sexy, sultry maiden burning to lose her maidenhood. And this is where Bella ran into a problem, as she ransacked her wardrobe looking for something that a sexy, sultry maiden burning to lose her maidenhood might wear. Why had she spent so much time buying plain boring cotton bras and knickers, pop socks and trainers, when she should have been investing in a corset, suspenders, stockings and six inch heels? It would be easy to look like a femme fatale if she was wearing a corset, suspenders, stockings and six inch heels. But as she had unaccountably stocked her underwear drawer with a view to comfort and convenience, it seemed that wasn't going to happen, so she had to come up with a new plan.

What about her bed-wear? Did she have a negligee so daring, so sophisticated that it would render Edward a slave to his senses, so the 'Eau de Bella' could do the rest? Unfortunately not. Her nighties were as boring as her underwear. Bella began to regret the misguided localism that had led to her buying from worthy but dull local businesses instead of doing what all the other girls did and seducing their boy-friends with racy baby-dolls from Victoria's Secret, evil corporate giant though it was. Why was she so boring? And if she was boring, why did a gorgeous, sophisticated wonder-man like Edward love her? And more to the point, her tryst with Edward was in twenty minutes, so there wasn't time for her to run in to Seattle and buy something startling from an 'adult clothing' shop, meaning that these depressingly modest garments were all she had to work with. Was there anything she could do to make one more exciting? Like cutting a vee here, a hole over there, and the bottom two feet off for a start? She grabbed her nail scissors and got to work.

Ten minutes later, ten minutes to go, she looked on her handiwork and despaired. The nightie skimmed her buttocks and left very little to the imagination higher up, but it still looked too, too wholesome. She needed see-through lacy bits, not winceyette. And only ten minutes to go before Edward was due to arrive and, she hoped, deflower her. If he saw her wearing this he wouldn't be overtaken by passion; he'd be overtaken by fear and probably call the doctor to say she'd had a funny turn. Bella stared at herself in the mirror, near to tears, as no option seemed to work. There was nothing left for it: either she must give up on her great plan, which was unthinkable, or else

'Oh fuck it,' she said, 'I'll just go naked.'

And so it was that, when Edward rang the door-bell, a near frantic Bella stuck her head out of her window and called out

'Make an entry, I mean, come on in, I mean, oh bugger, I'm in my room' and slammed it shut before Edward, who was rather startled by this mode of address, so at odds with the normal taciturnity of his beloved, could ask what was wrong. As she heard his footsteps on the stairs Bella continued to panic. She rushed to apply the 'Eau de Bella', first putting small dabs behind her ears and on her breasts then flinging caution to the wind and pouring the entire contents of the bottle down her chest. Then she jumped onto the bed, tried to look languorous, realised that she didn't know how, wished she had spent more time investigating that so-called 'adult' TV channel that her father liked to watch when he thought she had gone to bed, realised that if she didn't breathe soon she would be not undead, but simply dead, and, as there came a knock on the door, quavered 'C..c..come in, Edward.'

Edward entered, and the first thing to hit him was the scent of concentrated 'Eau de Bella', and he was about to comment on that when the next thing hit him, which was the sight of Bella lying naked on her bed, looking as if she were about to throw up. However, on seeing him it was as if she took a great resolve, for she said in a relatively calm voice,

'Ah, Edward, my love, come sit with me,' indicating a place on the bed next to her. Edward continued to stare, so she become a little more tetchy, saying 'Well come on, I mean it's not as if every day you get sexy young women offering themselves to you – repeatedly, I might add – or at least I hope not, not to say having the love of your life offering herself to you?' Edward spoke,

'You mean?'

'Yes, darling,' said Bella, 'Remember, I told you: I want you. I tried to get you to satisfy me earlier, but you wouldn't because of your pledge. Well now it's time that you forgot that silly old pledge and we fuck like rabbits.'

'But,' said Edward, unable to remove his eyes from Bella, or to ignore for one moment that overpowering scent, 'My word is my word, where would I be as an ethical vampire if I didn't keep my word?' Bella cursed internally, but managed to muster a smile and said,

'But you were young, they were shysters, and more to the point, do you think it's very ethical to keep me on boiling point for the rest of my life just because you can't do bloody arithmetic? Edward Cullen, you are not seventeen, you are one-hundred-and-eight. That pledge of yours expired eighty-seven years ago. Now are you going to fuck me or am I going to have to cry "rape"?'

'Er, rape?' said Edward, more as a suggestion, as he felt right now that some prison time would be quite pleasant in comparison to his current emotional turmoil; after all the decades would just fly past, and he'd still only be seventeen when he was let out. Bella, not thinking so poorly of her beloved as an understanding of this would have required, took it as a question:

'Yes, "rape", as in I'll accuse you of it unless you fuck me right now. So,' she continued, rising from the bed and making her way across the room to where Edward's shoulder blades were trying to cut through the door, 'Don't I entrance you? Don't I overpower you with lust?' she looked down, 'I see I do, unless that's a stake in your pocket. So come on, Edward,' she said, drawing him across the room to the bed by pulling on his clothing, 'Take me, for I am yours." She kissed him and they fell together on the bed.

'This is it', she thought to herself as Edward started to move on top of her and in her, filling her with joy that at last, and after so much effort, they were one. This was the pay-off for her having to get involved with that strange, sordid little man, and his shop of infinite scents. This was what she had been longing for since, oh, she had first set eye on Edward and fallen so deeply in love with him. This was – wait a minute, was that it? A mere forty-five seconds had passed and now Edward had come and then promptly fallen asleep. At first she could hardly believe it. When the women's magazines talked about the joy of sex and about orgasms and how one couldn't get enough of them, was this what they were referring to? Was what she had just experienced an orgasm? Because, if so, they were over-rated. And then a treacherous thought entered her head, a thought that dared to speak critically of her darling, adored Edward. And the thought was, perhaps this was the inevitable result of taking as her lover a one-hundred-and-eight year old virgin. Perhaps rather than preparing 'eau de Bella' and using it to inflame Edward's already heightened senses, she should have simply put on a miniskirt and stood on a street corner, cruising for jocks.

Bella was feeling distinctly hard done to, at the thought that all her great love had climaxed in this, this massive disappointment. And then a sudden thought entered her mind like ice dropping into a fire. 'Oh fuck,' she thought, 'He didn't use a condom'. She hadn't been bothered before because she had thought that a man of his sophistication would know better than to impregnate his lady without being sure she wanted to be impregnated. She hadn't, then, realised that her Edward was basically just a seventeen year old klutz, when it came to women. And so now, thanks to him (she projected her anger very effectively, never for a moment thinking that perhaps she should have taken the initiative, because heroines in this kind of story often are rather passive aggressive) she might be pregnant. She was so angry she didn't know what to do. She tried waking Edward, so she could take out her rage on him, but he slept the sleep of the, well, undead, so eventually she settled on taking one of his hands, from where it sat, listlessly caressing her breast, putting it in her mouth and biting down hard.

She tasted bitter blood in her mouth and swallowed. Suddenly her bedroom began to swim around her, and before she knew it, everything in her field of vision had acquired an aura: each item had surrounding it a penumbra, showing its effect on the world around it. She lifted her hand before her face and saw that it too had an aura. She saw the cloud of floating skin fragments, the haze of evaporating sweat, tiny pulses where veins and arteries flowed beneath her skin. And then there were the smells: crowding in on her, massive yet distinct, a plethora of odours, which she now realised she could analyse, so one was the smell of the plastic casing of her computer, while the keyboard had its own unique smell of plastic, sweat and biscuit crumbs. But strongest were two smells: one which made 'Eau de Bella' seem weak in comparison and the other: Edward. She realised that she didn't much like the smell of Edward, in fact she preferred the computer keyboard , and she wished she weren't quite so close to its source, but as he was asleep on top of her, and weighed considerably more than her, what could she do?

Well, of course there was something she could do, as she realised what all this sensory overload meant. She had finally become a vampire, and she didn't have to let little things like men lying asleep on top of her get in her way. With one hand she thrust Edward away, throwing him to the other side of the room. And that was enough to waken even the greatest lover in Forks, sleeping the sleep of the just after pleasuring his lady, let alone a hundred-and-eight year old teenage loser who wouldn't know how to pleasure a lady even if he read 'pleasuring a lady for dummies'. He looked about himself wildly.

'What? What happened? Where am I? Bella, why are you naked? Did I? Did you? Did we? Oh shit.'

'Oh shit indeed, Edward,' said Bella, 'Did you know you are crap in bed? Well you are. But it doesn't matter, because I'm a vampire now, so I'm going to wear low-cut lacy dresses and lure men into my boudoir – this place is going to need a make-over before it's a proper boudoir – where I'll drain them of their manhood and their blood.'

'But,' said Edward, trying to keep up with this, 'What about ethics, and vegetarianism and being nice and all that? What about our love?' Bella laughed and said

'Screw ethics. I realised something while I was waiting for you to wake up. I don't want to be loved, I want to make love, and lots of it. And you are just useless. So I'm going to be a proper vampire vamp, just like in the books, and frankly Edward Cullen, you and your family of namby-pamby ethical vampires can go fuck yourselves if you don't like it. I'm going to be the femme fatale of Forks, and then when I've had all the men here, I'll move back to Phoenix and be the femme fatale there, and then when I've finished with Phoenix...' she paused, her eyes glowing, her face rapt. Edward, filled with horror at seeing what his beloved had become, didn't know whether to scream or curl up in a ball and start crying, but he had to know, so he asked,

'After Phoenix what?'

'Paris', she said, in the voice of one who speaks wonders.


End file.
